To tweet or not to tweet, that is the question facing poli­ticians these days. After all, a tweet brought down a minister. How long will it be before tweeting makes a minister as well?

Tweeting, for those of you who have real lives, happens on the social networking site Twitter. You enter Twitter to tweet. Why you tweet rather than twitter on Twitter is a valid question that won't be answered here.

Dan Boyle is responsible for a surge in tweeting among the political classes. On the night that the Dáil voted confidence in Willie O'Dea, Boyle tweeted that it wasn't all over yet. "As regards to Minister O'Dea I don't have confidence in him. His situation is compromised. Probably be a few chapters in this story yet," he tweeted. O'Dea was gone within 24 hours.

Since then, the site has been atwitter with tweeting pols. Last week there was plenty of political traffic on the site, most of which is about as interesting as a Dáil debate on the intricacies of filling out livestock headage forms.

Ordinarily, you might think that Twitter is the last place you would find a politician. After all, messages on the site are confined to 140 characters, which leaves little room for the rambling, long-winded declarations that inform the political character. If nothing else, Twitter might engender a sense of brevity in political statements, and for that we must be grateful.

The Greens are among the most promiscuous users of Twitter. Dan Boyle, Ciaran Cuffe and Eamon Ryan could all tweet for Ireland. Last week, Ryan tweeted on Niamh Kavanagh's victory in the national song contest. "Fair play to Niamh K. Roll on Oslo. Think we've a winner on our hands." As a tweet, this is bog standard boring, but as a political statement, it is frightening. Does the communications minister want us to host the Eurovision, which might bankrupt RTÉ at this time of living dangerously?

Dan Boyle knows by now that to tweet is to stir it up. On Thursday morning, he posted: "Today we gather for our parliamentary party family photograph. Suspect many articles will follow on body language." What's he saying? That this cuddly bunch are no longer so cuddly?

David Norris is a terror for it. "Such excitement!! I was 33/1 for the Aras Put on €50 myself! Only got 20/1 now people are complaining that it has gone to 9/2 Well well!!"

In time, we may look back on this tweet last Tuesday and pronounce that it represented the stirrings of the first tweet campaign for president. Barack Obama used the internet to excellent effect in raising funds and spreading his word. Could Norris be fast out of the blocks tweeting all the way to the Phoenix Park? Or is he whistling past the graveyard, tweeting down through a pipe dream? You read it first here.

Fine Gael young buck, senator Paschal Donohoe has the itch. Last week, he delivered the following gem. "Where will I be spending time this Summer? Donegal, Waterford or south Dublin?" To which the only answer is: who cares?

Donohoe recognises Twitter as being the new "doorstep", that fabled location where politicians hear what they want to hear and pass on the word.

"Just met a guy 'voted ff for 35 years but I'm giving my vote to enda now'," he tweeted last week.

Whatever you may think about it, tweeting is the future if trends elsewhere are going to be followed. Boyle's monster tweet was not even the first tweet storm on the Irish political landscape.

The first one happened last February, and in keeping with the trade, was the result of a classic stroke. Fianna Fáil was launching its new website, and for the occasion, the party snaffled the services of Joe Rospars. Rospars was the cyber whizz-kid behind Obama's online campaign and the Soldiers of Destiny flew him in to see if he could sprinkle some of his magic on them. For the occasion, the party sent out invites to assorted bloggers and other cyber junkies. They wanted to get all these people in a room together and pick their brains.

Of course, the soldiers knew that these people wouldn't be seen dead at a Fianna Fáil shindig. So the clever boys forgot to mention on the invite that this was a party affair. All the cyber folk turned up to see Rospars, and it was only when they arrived that they realised that they had been assembled under false pretences. There followed a tweeting storm of indignation.

For the unversed, this new world is something to behold. You sign up and go hunting down fellow tweeters. Once you find them, you press on the option that asks whether you want to follow the tweeter in question. You are then privy to all his or her tweets. You can even download a tweet deck that makes the whole process less painful.

Following somebody is a dodgy activity. You are effectively acting as a psychic stalker, following the most private thoughts of your prey, or at least those bits that he or she wants to share with the world.

For instance, I signed up to follow Ciaran Cuffe. That afternoon I got an e-mail saying that Ciaran Cuffe was following me. Now, every time I leave the house, I take a good look around to check whether I'm being tailed by a man on a bicycle.

Speaking of Cuffe, he delivered the following tweet on Thursday evening. "Interesting, climate change as a factor in Malahide rail viaduct collapse." Nobody ever said that Twitter was a spin-free zone.

For many tweeters, the forum is a place to unload the most trivial thoughts that enter a brain. Some tweet on what they had for breakfast. Others tweet on their personal likes and dislikes, as if tweeting was a place to go to recapture your prepubescent years.

Senator Phil Prendergast tweets on her role in Operation Transformation, which is a TV programme about losing weight, hosted by Gerry Ryan, no skinnymalink himself.

"So that's it for my OP trans page. Any other update will be on my main page which I will be updating regularly." That should reassure her many followers that they won't be starved of news of her progress.

Nothing so trivial from Joe Higgins, who is no mean tweeter.

"3 members of socialist resistance (sp in Kazakhstan) beaten and arrested. Please send letters of protest." He may not be a prophet in his own land, but they will be celebrating Joe the tweeter in the hill country above the Kazakhstan capital from here on in.

Alan Kelly is another MEP who tweets with alarming regularity. "Busy week ahead in Strasbourg," he tweeted last week. In this example, tweeting politicians reassure the electorate they are busting a gut.

Paschal Donohoe was at the same thing on Thursday evening. "Busy busy busy. Arbour Hill policing meeting followed by Croke Park public meeting."

Tweeting could thus be dead handy. While the tweeters mentioned here are tweet-full of integrity, more devious minds could use Twitter as an alibi for attending all these boring meetings. If found out, they can protest that at least they were there in cyber spirit.

Whatever the cynics may say, tweeting may well be the future. And now, I'm off to tweet on whether the work of Daniel O'Donnell or Janis Joplin better captures the spirit of the age. See, I'm learning. Happy tweeting.